Elena Sinistra and the Slytherin Prince
by eliestarr
Summary: Second Year at Hogwarts is here, and Elena and the trio have no idea what's in store for them. It certainly isn't normalcy. When things get...scaly, her friendship with a certain Slytherin boy may just be the ticket they need to get some answers.
1. Look The Other Way

And here we are, girls and boys, at marvellous second year and all the scaly fun that's to be had. Sorry for taking quite a bit to get off my arse and write this one out. My sincere apologies, dears, and I thank you for being patient. Just a quick note, removed part of my penname, and it's not very different, I'm just mentioning it to avoid confusion at seeing me in your inbox and all. That said, I won't further delay you, welcome to Elena Sinistra's second year at hogwarts.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Look the Other Way<strong>

For a late, end of August day, it was colder than I expected it to be. Thankfully, though, Mum had me bring a warmer robe, so I pulled it tighter, slipping past an old woman with crooked teeth and down the stone steps into Knockturn Alley. I ignored the looks and whispers I received, words trying to tear me from my path, enticing me away from my goal. I hadn't the need or wish to spend longer in this place than I needed to before I got back to Flourish and Blotts, where Mum and the Grangers were waiting.

I just needed to get to Borgin and Burkes for one small thing, and then I could be off.

Because, as usual, the newest telescope I'd hoped to add to my collection had finally arrived in London—and it just _had_ to be in Borgin's care. I _loathed_ the place (except Mum says that's a strong word, so I s'pose _dislike_ will have to do). Not because it was in the shadier offspring of Diagon Alley. Or because of last year's _unpleasant_ encounter with Lucius Malfoy and his son. It was just because the place was creepy. Worse, _Borgin_ was creepy. The whole store just made me involuntarily shiver every time I stepped foot in it.

Today was no different as I pushed the door open carefully, hearing the high-pitched chime somewhere high above my head. Borgin looked up from fiddling with something at the main desk, narrowed his eyes briefly at me, then smiled—crooked and _not at all_ welcoming. "Miss Sinistra. So nice to see you."

"Mr. Borgin," I dipped my head, biting my tongue to refrain from returning a greeting I would not mean. "I heard you acquired the new StarSeer?"

"You've heard right," he grumbled, checking the clipboard lying astray on his counter. He raised a bony finger, pointing towards a towering shelf near the back of the store. "Look around. It should be there somewhere."

"Thanks."

And by '_there somewhere_' he means '_somewhere amongst a million other trinkets_' because nothing in this place is organized. He honestly must grab something right out of the box it's delivered in, hunt down an empty space, and chuck it there. Not that I can imagine there _being_ empty space anywhere…

I was halfway to a shelf I thought I might've seen the telescope on when a noise caught my attention. It was only rustling at first, but quickly became a cascade of noise and—funny; I could've sworn I saw a wave of dust push past the glass case to my right. I frowned, squinting. Yes, there _did_ seem to be a fair amount of dust settling on the ground. But where had it come from?

I glanced to the front to see that Borgin clearly hadn't noticed (or, in his fashion, didn't care). And so I found myself inching closer to the source of the dust and rustling, a sound which was worsening the closer I stepped. When I came fully around the glass case, my breath hitched in my throat—it was a boy!

There was… there was a ruddy _boy_ standing there, brushing himself off! With about a pound of dust in his hair, making it look grey, and even more on his clothes. How had he…? _Where_ had he…?

Hang on; those were Hogwarts robes he was wearing. _Gryffindor_ ones, to be exact. I think. I was attributing the lightness of the crest to the dust, and not the fact that it could be Hufflepuff, because _that_ was even more ridiculous than a Gryffindor being in here. And then, I realized, those were _glasses_ he was blowing debris off of. Cracked glasses. _Familiar _glasses.

Bugger.

Bloody buggering _hell_.

"_Harry_?" The name sounded strange on my tongue, in this place, but when he looked up at me, I had no doubt. A grin stretched out across my lips, and my feet sprung forward before the rest of me had time to react. I nearly would've smacked into him if my brain hadn't caught up and forced my arms apart to hug him. "Harry, what are you doing here?" As he returned the hug lightly, I stepped back, frowning. "Er, _how_, actually, is the more appropriate question."

"Floo Powder," he said, turning away to cough. Placing his glasses back on his nose, he squinted at the shop around us. "Where am I?"

"Borgin and Burkes."

He frowned. "I don't remember seeing that in Diagon Alley."

I winced. "Er, it isn't. Knockturn Alley, actually."

He looked at me, briefly, before shrugging. "Never heard of it."

"Then how did you…," I trailed off, pointing to the fireplace in confusion. You had to _say_ where you were going with the Floo Network, and so, if he hadn't a clue what this place was, I was a tad confused as to how he'd… _slid_ into it.

"I s'pose I might've mispronounced _Diagon Alley_ when leaving the Weasleys."

There was only a moment of quiet before we burst into peals of laughter. I shook my head at him, grin splitting my face, and reached into my robes for my wand. "Let me fix those glasses of yours, and then we'll be off. Do you know where the Weasleys were headed?" He shrugged.

"Alright, well," my wand tip touched the crack in his glasses, and I struggled to remember the spell Hermione was always telling him to memorize. Which of course, he didn't. And neither did Ron. And—hang on! "Reparo!"

The crack filled itself in, and pride swelled in my chest. "Thanks."

"Not a problem. Now, let's head to Flourish and Blotts. Mum's there with Hermione and her parents, and with any luck, the Weasleys might be, too. Unless Mrs. Weasley's gone mad worrying about where you've gone, of course."

He grimaced. "Let's hope not." Taking one last swipe at his robes, he made for the door, just barely visible around the nearest glass case. I followed.

I hadn't forgotten the telescope; I merely thought it a better plan to get Harry out of here before Borgin started to ask questions. Or someone came into the store that actually _belonged_ in Knockturn Alley and caused trouble for us.

As the bell above the door dinged, and Harry abruptly stopped, causing me to bump into him, I mentally kicked myself. A lot. For being such a prat. Because I _would_ think of something so stupid and manage to jinx us.

Translation? –Lucius Malfoy had just walked in.

Panic. Panic. Panic. Er, okay, how could we avoid him? Sneak out? Run away from impending doom? That isn't exaggeration, either. Really, it isn't. If I was alone, perhaps. But with _Harry_? _Here_?

Bugger.

Bloody buggering _hell_.

"Elena—"

"I see him. _Hide_," I hissed, gently pushing him back the way we'd come. "Okay, okay, relax. We need a plan. That's all. A plan. To get out of here. Quickly. Without him seeing us. You, mainly. Thoughts?"

"Um, yes? Are you panicking?"

"Aren't _you_?"

"Admittedly, a little."

"Right, well, hide. I'll take care of it."

"You'll wha—hey, what are you doing? Elena, I—"

Sorry, Harry, can't hear you from inside that large, person-sized, stand-up metal casket. S'cuse me while I distract the man Mum keeps telling me to stay away from. Huzzah.

"Mr. Malfoy," Borgin's voice floated over as Draco's father reached the counter, a grin set on the shop keep's crooked teeth. "Pleasure to see you again." His wrinkled hand slithered towards the clipboard he'd had in hand earlier. "I must say, you're just in time for—"

"I'm not buying today, Borgin," Lucius snapped, and it was then I noticed the box he was carrying, sheltered under his arm. He hoisted it onto the counter, rattling the items beneath the glass pane of the front display case, and pursed his lips. "I'm selling."

"Oh," Borgin's eyes widened, his hands clasping together. The old man could barely contain his glee, and that was particularly unsettling. I simply wasn't sure why.

"You are aware, no doubt…," Lucius began, and I crept my way around the back set of cases, never keeping my eyes from the two men. I was aware I needed to distract them to get Harry out, I just wasn't sure _how_. And listening to their conversation was belittling any motivation I had to figure it out. "That the Ministry is conducting more raids on private houses, in agreement with the new _Muggle Protection Act_." He hissed out the words with disgust.

"Pure wizard blood is counting for less everywhere, I'm afraid."

"_Not with me_." Gee, Lucius, didn't know you admired that nifty snake-headed cane of yours so terribly you had to emulate it in speech. "Anyway," he went on, opening the box he'd brought with him. I peered around the shelf before me, trying to get a better look at its contents. "I've brought a few items from home that might be a bit, hem, _embarrassing_, if caught by the Ministry. I'm sure you understand."

"All too well, all too well," Borgin nodded, plucking something from the box and examining it. His eyes widened, and he clutched at the next item, and then the next, fervently, madly almost, greed shinning so suddenly in his beady eyes. I chose that moment to act. "Lucius, these are—"

"Hi, Mr. Borgin," I chimed, stepping out of the back, towards the front, grabbing a trinket off the first shelf I passed. "Done."

Borgin narrowed his eyes at me, and I tried very hard not to look at the man standing off to my right, by his little box of… _suspicious_ items. "I thought you were in here for the new StarSeer, Miss Sinistra."

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. The _one_ time he actually paid attention to something I said…

"Miss Sinistra, so nice to see you," Lucius spoke up, plucking something that looked like a book, or a smaller, thinner box, from the pile of items that Borgin had been reaching for and subtly placed it amongst his robes. I turned, rather reluctantly, to see the smile on his lips. Far too warm to belong there. "Without Aurora this time, I see."

I tried very hard not to open my mouth and reply to the tone with which he'd spoken those words, and it was rather easy to lose motivation once I recalled a conversation Mum and I had had last year, over _why_ he was on a first name basis with her. It still made me cringe. _Friends_. Psh. "She's holding my place in line at Flourish and Blotts," I told him, straightening my shoulders. "For Gilderoy Lockhart. I just came here to see if Mr. Borgin had something I wanted…" then trailed off, realizing, of course, that I hadn't picked the StarSeer up, but some random item off the nearest shelf.

"Draco was at Flourish and Blotts when I left him," Lucius drawled as Borgin began making a pile of coins in exchange for the items he was taking from Mr. Malfoy. "Interestingly, my son had quite a bit to say about you…your adventures, last year."

I chuckled nervously, thinking of the Midnight Duel, and Norbert, and detention—and because just past him, I could spot the ends of Harry's robes sliding past the metal casket I'd stuck him in and towards the front. Borgin was still enamored with the things Lucius had brought, but it was Mr. Malfoy I had to keep busy. I smiled rather hesitantly. "I'm sure he did."

"I was glad to hear you ended up in the same house," he continued to smirk down at me, while Harry came closer and closer to the door.

"Er, thanks?" Almost there…

"Not that I had any doubts you wouldn't," Lucius continued, "from a pureblood line yourself, and your—"

"Here," Borgin barked suddenly, reaching under the counter and producing the very tiny telescope I'd come here to fetch. He'd… he'd had it all along! The absolute nerve of— "That'll be two galleons, please."

"Two…two _galleons_?" I spluttered, my eyes widening. "For the… but the listed price was only… I don't…"

Well, I s'pose "distract him so that Harry can sneak out" can surely translate into "be a blubbering idiotic mess" can't it?

"Here," Lucius drawled; grabbing two coins from the pile Borgin had been making for him and sliding them over to me.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," I shook my head, feeling suddenly nervous with Borgin glaring at me the way he was, as if I was intruding. He wanted me to go, leave them to their suspicious business, and as the bell above the door dinged, letting me know Harry had made it out, I was more than happy to oblige. "I—I'm fine. I can come back with Mum."

"Miss Sinistra—"

"Elena—"

"Have a nice day!" I grinned, all fake-cheer and high-pitched voice, side-stepping them both and heading for the door, heart pounding.

I could still hear it in my ears when I met up with Harry three shops away.

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><p>I find it a tad weaker than my usual writings, and I'm sorry if that's the case for you lot as well. Anywho, we've found ourselves at Diagon Alley (or Knockturn, anyway) for a second year start in a row, and for anyone who's seen the deleted scenes from Chamber of Secrets will know I borrowed a bit from there.<p>

Hope you enjoyed, and let me know in a review what you thought of it. Because I always enjoy hearing from you guys.


	2. The Great Gilderoy Lockhart

Dun dun duuuuun. Guess who's (tentatively) back! I know, I know, I'm a horrible, terrible person for not updating. I swear to god, I thought about it each and every time I received an e-mail about one of you revewing, and I actually finished this chapter awhile back, but refrained from posting it until I could get into the swing of things again. I'm hopefullyhopefully_hopefully_ going to have a more steady writing schedule set up now that university's back in session and I will do nothing more day in and day out than sit in front of my computer. So, here I am, thanking all of you for your admirable, outstanding patience, and hoping I haven't lost you yet.

On with the show!

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: The Great Gilderoy Lockhart<strong>

"What were you doing in there, anyway?" Harry said once we'd safely escaped the creepy population of Knockturn Alley. They were severely lacking in teeth, and hair, and clean clothes, and _hygiene_ and I wasn't quite sure what it was that made everyone who lived past the sign that told you which alley you were in quite so unpleasant, but I certainly wasn't sticking around to find out.

And so as we slipped back into bright and sunny and bolstering Diagon Alley, I wondered what we must look like to them. Just young twelve-year-olds, one slightly showered in dust, the other decidedly nervous, exiting a place they shouldn't be without their adult supervision—although in Harry's defense, it's not like the Weasleys had _sent_ him there _alone_. Actually, that reminded me…

I turned to Harry, frowning a moment before socking him in the arm. "Ow!" he hissed, grabbing his shoulder. "What was that for?"

"This is the first time _all summer_ I've seen you, let alone heard from you, Harry Potter!" I huffed. "What does it take for you to answer your owls, mister?"

He turned a rather bright shade of red. "Err, well, you see." And his hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck. "I didn't get any owls."

"You _what_?" I frowned, quite certain between us both; Hermione and I had sent enough owls to feed a small village. Or something. "But we sent—"

"I know," he held up his hands to stop my quickly forming outburst. "Listen, I would've written back if they'd gotten to me, only, there was this house elf named Dobby who stole them, and—"

"A house elf? Named Dobby?" I frowned, testing the name out on my tongue. It prickled with familiarity, something I did not like. The last time I'd felt like that was seeing the bracelet around my wrist, the one Draco had given me for my birthday—the one I'd left at Malfoy Manor as a child. I shuddered just thinking about it.

"Yes, he tried to convince me not to come back to Hogwarts."

"Well, that's a little strange," my frowned worsened as we made our way down the main street. "Did he say why?"

"Something dangerous was to happen."

"Wasn't that last year?" I laughed, and slowly, Harry did too. And then, there were three of us smiling and laughing as a mass of brown bushy hair swept in, arms wide, smothering Harry in a hug. "Hermione! Careful, you'll strangle the boy!"

"We were getting worried, you'd been gone for so long," she revealed, pulling away from him and turning to face me. "So I came to find you and—Harry, why do you look awful?"

"Floo Powder," he shrugged.

"Right," she wrinkled her nose. "Miss Weasley said something about that."

"You've seen her?"

"Of course! The whole family's in line at Flourish and Blotts with us, waiting to get our books signed by_ Gilderoy Lockhart!_"

There was a moment where Harry frowned, and I could tell he was going to ask. I shook my head, but he never saw it. "Who?"

"Oh, _Harry_, you haven't heard of Gilderoy Lockhart?" she gasped, and I tried to push us along, down the street, sending her a quiet glare.

"Hermione, I really don't think he—" but it wasn't like I got to finish, as she was suddenly explaining away, her face lit up with glee. And I almost hated to ruin her fun—_almost_—but I cleared my throat, tugged at her sleeve and reminded her we had somewhere to be.

"Right," she nodded. "Right! Well, we'll just have to _show_ you who he is, then." She beamed and I rolled my eyes. The man was a—well, not exactly a _legend_, per say, but more of a _celebrity_. He'd defeated great beasts, cured diseases and went on many grand, Wizarding adventures. He'd written about all of them, of course, and it was through these books that Hermione had familiarized herself with his every work and word and image. She was likely in love, at this point. And sure, the man was attractive, but he was a right _loon_. Not that I would ever tell her that, of course. I fancied keeping my own head, thanks.

As we pushed into Flourish and Blotts, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I wasn't sure why, but it stuck with me until we reached the line where our parents were waiting and I was reunited with mum. Her eyes lit up at seeing me and she swept me into her arms, chuckling. "Wandered off, did you?"

"Found Harry," I beamed as beside us, Mrs. Weasley began fussing over him. The dust on his robes and in his hair. When they finally settled around us, it was quite the task to peer around everyone to get a good look at him. _Gilderoy Lockhart_ sat at the front of the line, at a large table stacked with his own written works, scribbling into every book that landed before him, an enormous smile upon his lips. _Dazzling_ even. And he had on bright blue robes that complimented his golden hair rather nicely.

I had mentioned I thought he was ridiculously attractive, hadn't I? No? Oh, well, now I had.

And I wasn't the only one either. "Mum fancies him," Ron was telling Harry, watching his mother pat her hair and straighten her robe. She shot her son a look before jabbing him in the shoulder, and I giggled. At least, I did until the wind was nearly knocked from my lungs as a short man with a camera stomped past and I was almost pushed to the floor. Hermione grabbed my shoulder, steadying me as he announced his presence: "Out of the way! This is for The Daily Prophet."

_Figures_.

Gilderoy Lockhart looked up then, rewarding the man with an absolutely brilliant smile. Only, his eyes weren't in it. No, instead, they were focused in this direction. On me? _No_, couldn't be. Past me. Which meant—

"It can't be…," I heard him say in wonder. "Harry Potter?"

And it was at that point that the line we were standing in became unbearably uncomfortable. Whispers erupted through the crowd and Mrs. Weasley excitedly pushed Harry forward and out of line, up towards the table where Lockhart stood. I never got to see them shake hands, of course, as the people in Flourish and Blotts were suddenly abuzz and bustling about, getting in the way and pushing one another around for a better view of _Harry Potter_ meeting _Gilderoy Lockhart_.

"Nice big smile, Harry. Together, you and I make the front page!"

Ridiculously attractive, yes. A pompous loon, also.

I swore loudly as someone stepped on my foot, and squeezed Hermione's arm to get her attention. "Tell Mum I'll be around, alright?" She nodded, grin stretching wide on her lips. No doubt she'd stick around to get the best view _and_ get every piece of parchment she owned signed by him. I'd nick one off her later, as a keepsake, or something.

"—_extraordinary_ moment, this is, ladies and gentlemen, as young Harry here surely didn't expect when he stepped into this fine establishment this morning that he'd—"

The further I got from the line, the more Lockhart's voice faded away and I could think to myself. It was exciting, pondering what was to come this year at Hogwarts. No new courses, not until Third Year, but at least we'd be learning more in them. More spells with McGonagall and charms with Flitwick. More potions with Snape and jinxes with—well, I didn't exactly know _who_ would be teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts, but surely they'd be an excellent teacher. Dumbledore would find only the best to replace—well, he'd find a great new teacher, I was sure.

I tried not to think about _why_ we'd be needing another Professor, of course. It was better not to. As much as I could say last year had been_ eventful_, and quite an interesting start to my education at Hogwarts, I was hoping, at least, the Second Year would pass more smoothly. After all, there was one big difference between First and Second Year I was looking forward to.

No more ruddy _flying_ lessons.

It was this I thought of—the fact that I needn't be on a broom again for as long as I liked—that made me so giddy I didn't notice someone was at the top of the stairs I'd bounded up to hunt for books, required reading material list held firmly between my fingers. I ran smack into said someone and nearly knocked us both to the ground.

"Bloody hell, Elena, you think you could watch where you're going?" the person snapped, and I made note to kick myself later for not looking where I was going—or who I was running into, for that matter.

"Draco," I nodded, using the railing to steady myself as I watched him rub the spot on his chest, next to his Slytherin crest, where I'd slammed int—hang on. _Chest_? Since when did my head reach only his chest? I looked _up_ at him, meeting his eyes, and frowned. His hair was slicked back, much as it had been last year, but it was longer, and his shoulders had adjusted to his new height accordingly. "See you've grown."

He smirked. "See you haven't."

Yet I ate all the bloody vegetables and foods Mum said would make me sprout up. Funny how that worked. I noticed, then, he too held paper in his hand. Only, it wasn't a school list on parchment, like me. No, instead it looked very much like the page from a book. "Draco…," I started. "Did you rip that out of a book?"

His eyes widened, just for a moment, and then it was gone, replaced by a roll of his shoulder and a shake of his head. "'Course not," he huffed, folding it and stuffing in his pocket before I could get a better look at it. Silence stung at my ears a moment, and my feet shuffled awkwardly against the wooden floor before I decided to speak up again.

"Excited to go back?" I asked, offering him a small smile.

"More than you know." His smirk intensified, making him look smug. "Second Years get to try out for their House Teams. Of course, I'm a shoe-in for Seeker, but I s'pose I'll be going anyway." Quidditch Tryouts? Why did that sound familiar to me? "After all, I'll have an _audience_ to look out for, won't I, Elena?"

I nearly swore aloud. _Bugger_. That's right. He'd helped me last year with the Flying Final on one condition—that I attend the tryouts this year to see him. And I'd passed thanks to him, so… "Of course," I chuckled, idly rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. "I haven't forgotten."

"Good," he grinned, before his eyes flickered briefly to my hand, and he eyed the bracelet. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sounds of people cheering down below distracted us both, and the moment slipped away. Instead, his brow furrowed in a way I didn't like, and there was no kindness in his voice when he spoke again. "Potter's just loving it, isn't he?"

I rolled my eyes instinctively. "Really?" I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. "You're on this a bit early, don't you think? We haven't even started school."

"And yet Saint Potter's already—"

"Stop," I snapped. "Just stop it." The smug look fell away from his face, and I shook my head, turning away. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Draco." I could find my books later, with Mum, when he wasn't around. I didn't fancy getting a letter for underage magic outside of Hogwarts for hexing him this early on. He reached for my arm, and called my name, following me down the stairs towards the front of the shop, but I ignored him.

"Elena, listen—" but whatever excuse he'd had ready to go left him when we arrived at the base of the stairs and found Harry dumping a pile of books into Ginny's cauldron, accompanied by the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione and Mum. He bumped my shoulder as he skidded to a stop. "My, my, if it isn't Lockhart's new best friend."

I muttered, "Shove off, Draco," at the same time that Ginny, Ron's little sister, told him, "Leave Harry alone!" Her grip tightened on the handle of her cauldron as beside me, Draco sneered.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?"

"Will you—" the rest of my threat came out a shrill yelp as a something slammed into the railing of the stairs beside me. My eyes focused on it—a cane? Oh _bugger_. I knew that cane. I'd seen it not half an hour ago inside Borgin and Burkes with a particularly unpleasant customer. A customer whose son I was standing beside.

"Silence, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said sternly, and I watched his lips purse as he narrowed his eyes at his father, who smiled down at me. "Ah, Elena, so you found Draco afterall." Beside me, Draco's brow rose in question, and his earlier smirk returned. I practically groaned. Thanks so very much for putting it like that, Mr. Malfoy. Because, y'know, now your son believed I wanted something to do with him, when right now I'd rather hex him into another _dimension_. How nice of you.

And then, of course, because he had to make things _more_ mortifying, he pulled a very small and _very_ familiar telescope from his robe, and offered it to me. "I believe you left this behind at the shop." He said, and I stared down at the StarSeer like it was poisonous or something. Briefly, my eyes flickered up and met Mum's, and she gave me a questioning look. Oh, Mum, would that I could shrug and tell you I hadn't a clue what was going on.

Reluctantly, I took it, thanking him quietly as his attention turned away and onto Harry. Draco elbowed me, but I didn't look up. No thank you, can of worms, you could stay shut for now. "Mr. Potter, I don't believe we've met," Lucius stated, extending his hand towards Harry. I wondered, briefly, if Harry would shake it, realizing as he must that this was Draco's father. But it seemed that Lucius didn't intend to shake his hand at all—as he aimed high and brushed Harry's bangs away to look at his scar. "Forgive me, Mr. Potter, but your scar is legend. As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you."

"He was a murderer."

"Yes, _pity_ about your parents. Curious that you yourself should escape with a mere flesh wound, of course. Curious, too, that you speak of him in the past. Surely, you don't think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone forever."

And then I remembered the box of _questionable_ things he'd brought into Borgin's shop, and how astonished the man had seemed. Hadn't he been about to say whose things they were? Suddenly I felt very _very_ awkward.

"His name is _Voldemort_."

Oh, look, _more_ awkward. Anyone within earshot had suddenly gone quiet, some with hands over their mouths to dispel their gasp, and if I listened hard enough, I could almost hear chirping in the empty space left behind. I'd told him last year that it made me—and anyone else who'd grown up in the magical community since the war, heck _during_ the war—rather uncomfortable. It set my teeth on edge, personally.

"You must be very brave, Mr. Potter, to dare speak his name. Or foolish."

Or _both_. I almost snorted. If only he knew. But the things that had happened last year in the Third Floor Corridor were, naturally, our secret.

"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione spoke up then, and as her eyes drifted my way, I grinned, before they flickered back up to stare defiantly at Lucius. That's my best friend right there, folks. With impeccable timing and a witty rejoinder. Draco's father seemed to hum derisively.

"You must be _Miss Granger_. Draco's told me all about you…and your parents." He looked past us and further into the store, where they were talking with Ron's father, Arthur. The skin on the back of my neck prickled unpleasantly. We needed to leave. _Now_. "Muggles, aren't they?"

"Yes," she said quietly, and I stepped forward, grabbing hold of her arm.

"And just leaving," I added with a tight smile, and noticed Mum turn away to retrieve the Grangers. "It was nice seeing you, Mr. Malfoy."

_Not_.

Without waiting for an answer, I dragged Hermione out of the shop, and hoped to _Merlin_ we didn't have to cross the Malfoys again through the rest of our shopping.


End file.
